


Drowned out. Overloaded.

by BD99



Series: Tumblr Prompts [17]
Category: Starship Promise (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:54:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BD99/pseuds/BD99
Summary: Bubbles, little pockets of air rushing to escape the vast nothingness, the inevitable trap before they burst at the surface.  Until they ceased to exist to contribute to a larger whole.   There was something morbidly poetic about water and bubbles, something that enchanted even the youngest of minds.  Water and bubbles, no matter the age of the being observing them, held an allure.   Zoe remembered when bubbles and pools were a thing of joy, when the bath was the highlight of her day.  That time when her mom would spend time with her, and later, where she could be alone to think.  The journey into adulthood had seen bath bubbles fade into basic soaps, then baths into quick showers.  Strange, that her life would lead her back to pools.  Back to the inevitable.  Perhaps time was nothing more than an air bubble, and she was merely meant to add to the whole.
Relationships: Zhora Leonis/Main Character
Series: Tumblr Prompts [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940980
Kudos: 1





	Drowned out. Overloaded.

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the prompt:" "May i request hc or fic of liora, zhora, and vivienne finding out that their girlfriend had been psychologically/emotionally abused by her parents; making her use the safe word because of how triggering it was for her?"
> 
> Song used: Aerials - by System of a Down - Cover by @Halocene, @Lauren Babic, @Violet Orlandi  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2ieONOQtfU

The sound of water rushed in her ears. That dulled, sloshing of limbs weakly paddling. Underwater always felt so far away from the world, each source its own little ecosystem waiting for someone entitled enough to come by and befoul it. Bubbles, little pockets of air rushing to escape the vast nothingness, the inevitable trap before they burst at the surface. Until they ceased to exist to contribute to a larger whole. There was something morbidly poetic about water and bubbles, something that enchanted even the youngest of minds. Water and bubbles, no matter the age of the being observing them, held an allure. Zoe remembered when bubbles and pools were a thing of joy, when the bath was the highlight of her day. That time when her mom would spend time with her, and later, where she could be alone to think. The journey into adulthood had seen bath bubbles fade into basic soaps, then baths into quick showers. Strange, that her life would lead her back to pools. Back to the inevitable. Perhaps time was nothing more than an air bubble, and she was merely meant to add to the whole.

Zoe let her body float, unable to do anything but watch the bubbles from her escaping breath. That was wrong. She knew she was meant to rise now, meant to use her arms to take a stroke enough to lift her face from the water. To take a breath… but she couldn’t. Her body was locked, floating face down, about to begin sinking if she couldn’t do something. Puff her stomach, roll over, flap for help. Something. ANYTHING. She couldn’t. She was helpless to do anything but think. Teenage years all over again. That same drugged out feeling, that cloud on her mind, that helplessness with her own body and opinions. An air bubble at the bottom of an ocean, doomed no matter what.

She had to wonder, if a bubble could feel, would it be as melancholy as she was thinking? Surrendering to the water was so effortless. Letting herself sink, she was able to finally look up, to see how far she had fallen beneath the surface. Or was it how far she’d come? When everything had started, she was merely this naive little girl babbling about all the attractive people she bumped into, trying to just stay in line and keep her head down, then trying to protect what she loved so that everything would be normal again. She’d been so safe in normal, content with the lies she’d been fed for a scrap of approval. Now? She could see how brainwashed she’d been, how accepting of things as normal instead of wrong. How she’d enabled these things by holding her tongue. It had only taken a storm of nature to sweep her off her feet, to grab her in the typhoon, for her to truly see what had been in front of her all along.

It was so beautiful, looking up, especially once the bubbles had all burst. A clean screen but a blurred view of white blue bands dancing across the industrial concrete ceiling. No shape was the same, yet all were stripes, rippling between straight and curved with the gentle artificial waves. Light and reflections, smoke and mirrors, but so serene that Zoe could almost just let herself drift away. But her body had other ideas. She tried to breathe, only to inhale a lungful of water. The beauty faded. It was no longer serene, but stinging and agonizing. It was a lungful of chemical and death, foul tasting and burning all the way down her throat. It was bitter defeat, with a side question of how many people had peed in this pool? Was she really about to let herself drown in a pool full of other people’s piss?

Before she could even answer that, it was white. It was a storm of bubbles, a stampede of white crashing so loudly in her ears that she almost screamed. Why was it so loud? What was the muffled screaming? The chaos? It was her teenage years all over again. Her life. Was this what a life flashing before one’s eyes truly meant? Not all the sexy times, not a movie of achievements and desires, but a mottled sensation of one’s worst times? Why would anybody romanticize this crap? Before she could truly contemplate it, there was an answer. A tight arm around her midsection, pulling just that little bit too tightly, squeezing and intimidating, dragging her through the water, out of the water. Finally, she could take a breath.

It was useless. Everything was too cold, stinging against confused nerves. But her back was hot, cushioned, but the cushioning was all rough and wet which made it cold. It defied logic. What else could she do but gasp for that useless air to make her lungs work? She needed air to struggle, to defy this illogical clash of sensation and right the galaxy. Then it was moving, it was vanishing, replaced by a smooth heat, save particular points of contact. A silkier wetness, somehow, and more heat than even the warmed water. A nicer sensation. At that, Zoe turned, trying to worm her way into the comfort even as she tried to think of everything she wanted to say. To process what had happened.

“Zoe?” The mass behind her spoke, tone… why couldn’t Zoe identify the tone? It was right on the tip of her tongue, within reach of her grasping mind, but it was just… blank? Was that even the right word? She knew the word, she knew lots of words, words that had people scratching their heads, but right now. Right now, not a single word was within her reach. She couldn’t access her files, couldn’t make herself process the world. It was too much, too loud. The assistant droids were clanking, the kitchen pots and pans beating her over the head, making it throb… only, nothing was touching her. Wyst was yelling for help, or was it her father yelling at her to get help? They sounded nothing alike, but… she was scared, terrified. Was a zombie coming back from the grave or was she the zombie? Well, with all the cells constantly dying in people, everyone was always a little dead inside but that was totally irrelevant. Why did she think that? She shouldn’t think that… should she? Could she even say that? If she tried to explain what was happening, would the words even make sense? She wanted to scream, to shout, needed to get the noise off of her chest before it drove her deaf, but what noise should she even make? If she was to be silenced, what solitary cry would save her? What would bring her world back into balance?

“Dolphin…” The whisper escaped. A single word. A code. Something she remembered even in the depths of her pain. When her mind was flooded, the word remained. An old-world mammal, which swum the oceans. Logic defying and yet completely logical. Beautiful. Unique. Her favourite. An image of safety for a young child, turned a word for an adult. A single word which said more than an entire sentence could. A word she wouldn’t ever be punished for uttering. She knew that in her bones. Zhora had told her.

“Dolphin.” Louder this time. Zhora had let her pick one word, for when she was so overwhelmed that she needed everything to stop. Just like now. Zhora would make it happen. Zhora would make the world stand still if Zoe merely requested it. If a way did not exist, Zhora would invent one. Zhora was safety just as she was the typhoon. How a force of nature was the safest thing in Zoe’s life made no sense, especially Zhora, but despite defying what Zoe had always recognized as logic, the results spoke for themselves. Beaten, bruised, wounded, Zhora would always win. She’d crawl across molten lava and shards of glass, bleeding out whilst being shot at if it would see Zoe safe. Zhora had been the storm to wake Zoe to corruption, just as she was the saving grace when Zoe had begun to fall. Zhora sparked rage but quelled it too. She was a criminal with a heart of gold. She was the constant. Zhora was… Zhora.

“Zoe?” that tone again. Zoe couldn’t even think what it was, but it was. She knew exactly how it made her feel. That warm, gooey feeling in her chest, as if her heart were a melting chocolate pudding. As if the warmth of a good hot chocolate was blooming in every muscle, in every bone, without the unpleasantness of having to slide down into her gut first. Instant gratification, instant security. Enough to lure Zoe out of her hiding place. To lift her head.

“Dolphin.” Zoe repeated, this time crystal clear. The word escaped clean, even as Zoe was finally able to blink enough to see through the blur. Green. A unique shade of green that washed away the awareness that anything else existed. Captivating, gentle and sweet without appearing weak. Zhora’s eyes, concerned, relieved and understanding. Zhora understood! She knew. She could now bring everything to a halt, hit the restart, or perhaps shoot the knees out of any racer who didn’t respect the pause button.

“Cover your ears, cutie.” The captain warned; that same goo inducing tone laced with an edge that left no room for question. Zoe obeyed, or rather, she was pretty sure she did. What were ears again? She knew the answer but damned if she could comprehend.

“STOP! Everyone, clear out. Wyst, get them out of here.”

There was no way anybody would second guess Zhora. No way anyone would do anything but obey. The muffled stampede of obeying bots and humans alike barely reached Zoe’s ears, not when Zhora’s warm arms settled around her, pulling her into a firm embrace. Safety. Zoe wasn’t sure how long she lingered in that embrace, appreciating the heat against her, the way the world was still save for the rhythmic rise and fall of silky wetness… no, Zhora’s wet bra. Bra and skin. The rise and fall of her chest… weapons and jacket abandoned. That was enough to have Zoe’s cheeks heat, definitely embarrassment mixed with something else. If Zhora had just jumped in though, that would mean that… a quick glance down and a shuffle of one leg confirmed both of Zoe’s suspicions. The Captain was still wearing those form fitting pants, which were now soaking wet and clinging enough to outline defined muscles. All at once, Zoe realized how small she was, cradled to her half naked captain, staring at the pale skin on display.

“Enjoying the view, cutie?” Zhora’s teasing tone was accompanied by a ripple of tension through her defined core. Then the piercing, emerald and sapphire across silks. Two moons in the skies above the rolling hills. Glorious, fluidly rolling hills. Strong hills that could flip credit chits. That felt so… oh stars. The gleam of her belly button piercing was enough to have Zoe’s poor ears near steaming. It was bad enough to be so overwhelmed, but this was an entirely different direction Zhora was yanking her in the land of overstimulated. If she looked away, there was so much happening, nothing which appealed as much as the view Zhora offered. Yet, staring was also so much. Inappropriate, thirsty behavior… in a swimming pool, no less. Oh hubble, that’d read so badly on her tombstone. Here lies Zoe Leonis – Loving Inventor of ADA, AI- died of thirst in aquatic physical therapy. 

“Yes?” she squeaked, earning a low chuckle in response. Oh… that definitely had her aware of her toes again, they practically curled at the low timbre of such a sound. And her ears, they were probably on fire by now. Still, she wasn’t about to lie. Especially since her response earned another round of selective flexing. It was enough to have Zoe’s mind wandering elsewhere, until the her weakness due to the long term side effects of the antidote in her system came swinging back to the forefront of her mind. Seriously, fuck Zenith’s poison. Fuck Scorpion and her “misleading implications” over the lack of side effects. Right now, Zoe was prepared to create the most cusswords she had ever crated in her life to cuss out the bitches and their poisons.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” Zhora requested, bringing her hand to Zoe’s face. Cautiously, she tucked hair back behind Zoe’s ear, careful to keep every move telegraphed. The care behind each gesture was more than Zoe’d ever experienced before, especially from those close to her. Why wasn’t Zhora angry? This was the type of thing people could get angry about, but Zhora was so relaxed. So tender…

“I have autism spectrum disorder, commonly known as ASD.” Zoe answered quickly, barely taking a breath. This was the moment it’d all go to hell. Where Zhora would realize what a wreck she was.

“I know, cutie. I saw your medication withdrawal.” Zhora’s answer left Zoe reeling. She… knew? Why didn’t she say something? Why didn’t she ask about it? Why was she taking this so calmly? It was as if Zoe had just read her a shopping list, not divulged a diagnosis which had haunted her childhood.

“Wha-? How? Why didn’t you say something?” She demanded quickly. These were the types of things that peopled asked when a big secret wasn’t a secret, right? 

“Zoe, your symptoms over your mom. Increased aggression, lowered impulse control? I knew, but I wasn’t about to come at you about it. You’d just left your family and we were all you had left. I wasn’t about to make the ship unsafe for you to satisfy my curiosity. I also know you; how could I not notice the little things you do differently?” Zhora explained, stilling her hands around Zoe’s jaw. Supporting her head, never forcing the eye contact they held. It was effortless to keep eye contact with Zhora. Her eyes were so pretty, the emotions there were always so pure, so kind. Even in her fury, those eyes never held the hatred Zoe had witnessed in even her own flesh and blood. Zhora never forced eye contact, she lured Zoe in. Zhora never shied from eye contact. She could hold it without increasing the tension, without that awkwardness creeping in… she was also nice to look at. Definitely, her looks made it easier. 

“I never knew you felt that way.” Zoe admitted weakly, offering a twitch of her lips. An awkward flicker of a smile. What expression should she make in this situation? Oh shucks, she was probably making all sorts of weird expressions trying to settle on one. If so, Zhora never laughed. She simply smiled, eyes twinkling in that endlessly fond manner.

“If you need to talk, I’m here, cutie.” Zhora’s voice was so gentle, her eyes so understanding. How could Zoe do anything but talk? But spill her guts and trust Zhora wouldn’t tangle them up? There was a terrible realization in her eyes, a terrifying understanding. Of course, Zhora knew. She’d seen the moment Zoe’s relationships had crumbled. She’d been there when Zoe’s aunt had tried to shoot her, had been the one offering comfort and covering fire. Had been the one to talk her through all the family lies, to gently open her eyes. Zhora had been the one watching Zoe slowly crumble, the one holding her together, encouraging her to talk to her family. Zhora had been in the next room over when Zoe’s mother had all but disowned her. She deserved to finally hear the semi tragic backstory.

“We tried to cure it when I was young, you know.” Zoe began, barely taking a breath before plunging into the explanation.

“We did all the treatment with the specialists, I mean, my parents were medical geniuses. Me not being… well, I was delayed. I didn’t talk for years. Then I wouldn’t shut up.”

“You do ramble a lot, Cutie. It’s adorable.” Zhora commented, smiling as she gave Zoe a playful squeeze. In return, Zoe merely stuck her tongue out, eyes twinkling. Zhora, without missing a beat, simply nipped in Zoe’s direction, would have caught her tongue if Zoe hadn’t sucked it back into her mouth. Instead, a playful bump of noses left them both grinning like fools. It was effortless, to take a moment of playful reprieve before diving back into the darkness of the topic at hand.

“Everyone thought it was weird. The other kids didn’t like me much back then. I knew too much, spoke too much like an adult and couldn’t play like a normal kid. These doctors would make me play all these games I didn’t really want to play, then take things away from me if I didn’t do what they wanted, how they wanted. I never bothered too much cause they’re just things, right? I like things but things are things not people. Then, if I did things wrong, my parents would ignore me until I got it right. They were trying to help me learn but I didn’t process learning without this. I had to use big girl words when I was struggling to get help, couldn’t be all weird or I wouldn’t get acknowledged. Sometimes, it took me a long time to get the words right.”

“That’s why you keep talking until you feel you’ve said the right thing.” Zhora noted softly, her brows lowering over her eyes in concern. There was more there, something hardening, a storm brewing. 

“I had to get it right. Like, if I wanted the food, I had to read the label and ask correctly. If I didn’t pronounce it right or asked wrong, I didn’t get it or even acknowledged until I did. I had to play with toys a certain way. If I played wrong, they got taken off me. That’s why I liked science so much. There was no wrong. It was all an experiment, and me doing things differently was appreciated.”

“They wouldn’t give you what you needed unless you were perfect? Fucking hell, cutie…” Zhora’s lowered tone became a growl, irritation flooding her… yet that kindness in her eyes remained. That protectiveness that somehow Zoe could always translate. It wasn’t anger at her, but for her. It was a safe anger. One she could cuddle up to and forget she’d ever been in danger.

“Dad always got angry and yelled. Started ignoring me no matter what. Mom was with me more. But, it all got to be too much. I kind of snapped. I took a lot of medication and went for a bath. Passed out, hoping to drown myself. My parents found me, screamed at me, called me selfish and…” Zoe trailed off, taking a deep breath as her thumb ran across her fingers, across the cuts surrounding her ring. At that, Zhora froze, eyes homing in on the little damages. Injuries always explained as engineering accidents. A mechanic’s hands. Gently, as if she might break Zoe beneath her grasp, Zhora lifted the hand.

“These aren’t from an accident, are they?”

All Zoe could do was shake her head. No. They most certainly weren’t. The pressure built in her throat, forcing her to gasp for breath. She was drowning again, ready to succumb before Zhora leant closer, pressing her lips to Zoe’s forehead as if it might still the rising flood. It did. Somehow, such a gentle gesture allowed Zoe to take a breath, comforted.

“Oh, Zoe, fuck… I’m so, so sorry.” The Weapon smuggler whispered; her tone laced with the tears pouring from her eyes as she pressed her lips to the scars. It was beautiful, to see the storm in her eyes, to see her rage burning even as she touched with such sweetness. To see the kindness amplified into wrath, yet never disconnected. 

“My parents said I should look at it. So, if I ever got married, I’d see it and remember how selfish I was for trying to end my life. Dad left after that, and things seemed to get better. Mom realized how fucked up it was and apologized for it. I thought… I don’t even know, Zhora. It just came back to me when I fell, and I couldn’t even move. It just bombarded me, how small and helpless I felt. And the poisoning weakening me, just… thanks for jumping in after me.”

“If I meet your parents, Zoe, I’m going to fucking shoot them. I am so glad you’re out of that family.” Zhora whispered, once more pulling Zoe into a tight embrace. The Captain closed her eyes, quietly tucking Zoe under her chin. Those closed eyes couldn’t conceal the reckoning brewing within Zhora. 

“Think Leonis fits me better?” Zoe couldn’t help but tease, taking the out such a joke offered. This conversation was too much, too heavy, but a weight gone too. Feeling someone had heard her, feeling someone validating her own ire and outrage towards the past with their own. Perhaps that was all she truly needed. Afterall, she couldn’t run from the past, couldn’t wipe away the emotional and physical scars. Time still turned the pages of the books it burned, after all. But, maybe, with her chosen family at her side, Zoe could write faster than the flames. Maybe, with Zhora, the story could have the happily ever after she’d always dreamed of.

It had always been Zhora. For each and every time Zoe’s family had let her down in her adult life, Zhora had been there, gently and silently picking up the pieces. Helping Zoe reconstruct herself the way SHE wanted to be. Not the way others had moulded her to be. Even without knowing how, Zhora had seen the tampering others had done, just as she’d seen the woman Zoe could become. It’d always been Zhora. Why Zoe had felt the ending could have been any different was suddenly laughable. Even jagged, a mess of open wounds and scars blended into dangerous coping mechanisms, Zhora had refused to be another let down. Another betrayal. Rather than ever demand Zoe change, the Captain had sat back, had worked on her own issues to be better for the woman Zoe was moulding herself into. Zhora hadn’t just abandoned Zoe, or merely offered a place to be. Zhora had grown with her, quietly changing to become a better foundation for the little engineer. Opening her own wounds so that Zoe was not alone. Opening her heart to no longer be a lone wolf, all to ensure Zoe had a pack should the worst happen. At least, Zoe was somewhat convinced that’s what Zhora told herself. Zhora hadn’t looked at the broken girl as less worthy, or her challenges less valid. She’d taken them on board, had grown into herself to ensure Zoe could grow into herself. Two separate trees shaped around each other. Both could stand alone, but together their unusual shapes finally made sense. Finally had harmony. 

“Zoe Leonis… sounds better than Zhora Rayner.” Zhora’s gentle purr lured Zoe back into the land of the living, had her turning in the smuggler’s lap, winding her own arms around Zhora’s neck, a hand running over the shaved side of her head. In turn, Zhora’s hands crept below the water, landing on the familiar curve of Zoe’s rump in a manner Zoe had come to associate with sweet. How someone grabbing her butt could be sweet was another one of life’s illogical logics. It was this way because it was Zhora. It was that simple, to Zoe, at least. Zhora could defy a lifetime of logic, yet still be the clearest thing in Zoe’s existence. That was just Zhora. Her air at the end of a bubbles journey. Her inevitable.

“Yeah…” Zoe couldn’t help but agree, lips peeling into an utterly smitten smile as she leaned closer, pausing a moment before pressing her lips to her happily ever after.

“It does.”


End file.
